Metamorphosis
by ClockChaser1945
Summary: Metamorphosis. A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means. Elizabeta was desperate, but she didn't want to do anything that would get Gilbert taken away. She knew something was wrong. She also knew that he could barely control himself anymore. So she turned to a ragged shack in no man's land for help.
1. Condition

**Hey there! ClockChaser here. I'm kinda new on here, but a friend told me that it would be cool to post my stories on here, so here I am! Feel free to tell me about grammer and spelling errors, in fact, please do. Thank you for reading my story!**

 **So, another close friend of mine is currently getting ready to submit a new scp to the wiki that they call the wendigo parasite, and they told me it was okay to mess around with the plot. Here you go, enjoy!**

 **NOTE: The first three chapters are kinda slow BUT I PROMISE that by chapter four, things are good.**

* * *

 _Metamorphosis:_

 _Noun, Zoology_

 _a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means._

 _"The creature had metamorphosed from man to beast easily, though painfully."_

* * *

Gilbert stared down at the floor, holding his stomach. His head ached, mostly behind his ears, and his legs were sore. His back ached horribly. He didn't feel well. He didn't feel well at all. He was wracking his brain in an attempt to recall how on earth he could have become so sick. He didn't know, really. He was healthy, as far as he was concerned. Very healthy. He exercised and ate well.

Maybe it was a few weeks ago. While hiking. The had been plenty of mosquitos. He was sure they had passed a sick looking man as well, but he couldn't be positive.

"Gil?" He heard a soft knock on the door of his apartment bedroom. That was Elizabeta.

He had been dating Elizabeta for a year or so now, and things were strong and steady. He had a good relationship with her, and they both cared a lot about each other. They were even talking about her moving in with him to save money.

"Yeah, Liz?" He coughed slightly.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, cracking the door open. She paused, her brow turned up in worry. "God, you're pale."

He coughed again, lightly, though it was clear he wanted to keep coughing. He hadn't ever been this sick, he was positive.

"I'm gonna go get you some Advil, okay?" She said worriedly, and Gilbert nodded in reply.

He coughed again, more intensely this time. With that he plopped back on the bed, swathing himself in the sheets. He closed his eyes, putting his clammy, cold hands to his still pounding skull.

She stepped in a minute later, holding the small white and blue bottle of pills and a glass of water. She plopped down on the bed beside him, before emptying a couple pills into her palm before handing him the water. He gave her a small, tired smile of thanks as he took the pills and started drinking the water.

Elizabeta sat there, looking at him.

"Is it the stomach flu, or something?" She questioned worriedly.

He shrugged a bit. "I'm not sure. It could be. But my head aches too. And my back and legs. I dunno what's up." He said softly, in a croak.

She had her brow furrowed, sitting and staring at the floor like he had a few minutes before.

"That's weird."

"What?"

"Your legs. I mean, I would get your back and head, but…" She shook her head. "If it gets any worse, then I'm taking you to the hospital, alright?"

Again, he just nodded.

She stood, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she glanced down at Gilbert's pitiful lump of a comforter in the bed.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here while I'm at work?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'll be fine." He huffed stubbornly, rolling over.

Her brow turned up as she left, shutting the door. A few moments later, the front door shutting could be heard.

Gilbert lay there, attempting to get to sleep and waiting for the medication to take place. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe then, he could escape the horrible headache. Hell, he didn't even want to turn on the television. He groaned and buried himself in the sheets, curled into an awkward little ball. His lower back hurt, a lot. Especially his spine. And his head behind his ears ached. His feet hurt just as much.

Gilbert inwardly wondered what sickness would make his legs and spine hurt, because he hadn't ever heard of anything like it, and as he thought, he ended up falling asleep.

He dreamed.

oOoOo

Tired eyes stared down at the snow, at bare feet. Trees stretched out about the figure that stood, hunched slightly as they turned their head, shifting the spindly limbs on their back to drag the heavy feathers across the ground.

Heavily running water could be heard not far off. Like a river, like rapids. The figure shifted forward, turning their pale face towards the water to begin tromping forward on strangely angled feet. They were like rabbit's feet, or deer's feet, though they look more like a malformed human's, toes turned forward, and shoulders hunched forward a bit for better balance. Large horns graced down over those shoulders, before being angled up as the figure looked down at the shallower water.

The figure extended a raggedly clothed hand into the water, brushing clawed fingers through it in a childish awe. The hand was pale, almost as pale as the snow. There was a snap.

The figure turned, eyes landing on another figure. It was a human, clearly, clothed in winter camouflage. They held a rifle. The figure by the water bolted, vision filled with trees as the moved their spindly feathered limbs frantically. They were not large enough for flight yet. So, the figure turned, curs grin get the following human with maw open and claws outstretched.

The snow turned red.

oOoOo

Gilbert woke suddenly, letting out a heavy breath. His headache returned, along with the other pains about his body, he groaned softly, glancing over to see Elizabeta passed out next to him. When had she gotten home? He didn't realize… he must have been asleep. He rolled over to face the door, and the mirror that stood there, and stared at a pale face, as pale as the snows outside.


	2. Contemplation

**I hope ya'll liked the first chapter! I'll update as the muse sings, but I'll make sure to get something up at least every Wednesday.**

Gilbert strayed from the bed the next morning. He stood, pulling on sweats. At least it wasn't so bad he had to lay down all day. He grabbed a T-Shirt from the end of the bed, seeing that Elizabeta had woken up again. He could smell her cooking eggs in the kitchen. He yawned softly, drifting in.

"Hey, you feeling better?" Liz called over her shoulder, casting him a worried look.

He nodded a bit. "A tad. I don't think I'm up for work today."

Her brow turned up as she scooped herself some eggs, and he stared absentmindedly, before shaking his head a bit as he meandered over to the couch. He plopped down, burying his face into a pillow. Elizabeta didn't even sit at the small counter as she plopped down at his feet, and he sat up, hugging the pillow almost childishly.

"So tell me everything that's going on in there." She gestured to him with her fork, before looking at him expectantly.

"Headache, still." He groaned a bit, burrowing his face into the pillow with a sigh. "Legs and back still hurt, kinda feel sick. But I think my throat's better." He offered her a tired grin. "At least that's good."

She nodded, before glancing down at her eggs to take a bite. He blinked a bit, before looking away with a huff.

"You up for food then?" She asked concernedly, and he turned his tired gaze to her.

"I guess."

"Toast?"

"Toast."

She smiled, moving to the kitchen as she ate. She began to make toast, and he flopped back on the couch. He reached for the remote, switching on the television.

"- _the half desecrated body of Gavin Meyers was found early this morning on his property. So far, foul play seems to be still questionable, but the local forest service claims that there is a chance that a mountain lion could have attacked the man-_ "

Gilbert blinked as he stared at the television, which displayed a woman who held a microphone. She stood in front of a snowy stretch of forest by the road, with a concerned expression on her face as she spoke.

"What's that?" Elizabeth turned with just as much concern.

"Someone else died." He replied softly, furrowing his brow at the situation.

"Elizabeta let out a heavy sigh as she passed him a palate of toast, which he took thankfully. She sat beside him, adjusting her nurse's scrubs a bit.

"I hope this stops." She sighed, before glancing at her phone for a moment. She swore. "Crap, sorry Gil, I gotta go or I'll be late. If you need me call me, okay?"

He glanced up in surprise, before a small amused smile came to his face. He shook his head. "Alright, get going Liz. Say hi to Toni for me."

"Bye!" She stood and kissed his forehead, before rushing out the door. She ducked back in for a moment to grab her keys, before she left the cozy little apartment.

 **oOoOo**

"Oh, he's sick? Poor thing." Katyusha hummed as she worked beside Elizabeta at the desks. The two were on desk duty at the kids hospital that day, and so far, it was nothing but a couple of skiing accidents that had resulted in mere sprains.

Liz nodded, glancing up from the computer.

"Yeah, he hasn't been feeling too hot at all as of late. I know he's not trying to skip out on work or anything but…"

"But?"

"Well, he said his legs hurt."

She chuckled. "He said his legs hurt? Well what does he have?"

"We don't know. We think it's the flu or something, I mean he's never done good with sickness. And sometimes that stuff can make you sore, when your body is working on it."

"I mean, I guess." Katyusha agreed softly. "You should try searching around the internet. I haven't heard of much like it, I mean… legs."

"His lower back too, and his head. Behind his ears, he said a few days ago."

"Did you go to the chiropractor?"

"Not yet…"

"Well you should try. If his backs so sore than maybe his system isn't working right. That usually ends up working. I'll poke around a bit though, to see."

Elizabeta offered the woman a smile. "Thanks Kat."

"No problem Liz! It puts us all down to see the big man off his feet."

She smiled at that before turning to the door as a mother and a limping daughter marched in, tracking snow with them.


	3. Consternation

Gilbert ended up getting up a few hours later. He stood, wrapping a blanket over his shoulders with a soft sigh, and switching off the television. Honestly, he missed work. Surely he needed to work on better teaching techniques.

Gil was a ski instructor. There was no feeling to him like getting locked into those alloyed logs, skimming down the powder, holding those poles to his side as he turned back and forth across the mountain.

And honestly, he liked teaching kids how to enjoy it too. Sure, he was in charge of the more advanced classes, doing tricks and jumps and black diamond runs and such, Two days not being on the mountain made him anxious, or something like it. That and Elizabeta hadn't called. He picked up his phone, dialing someone he knew was bound to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Toni."

"Hey, Gil! Are you feeling up to hitting the slopes, el amigo?"

Gil chuckled a bit, turning to look out the window. "Sorry, no, not today."

"Oh, that's a shame. Francis and Matthew and I have all been missing you, it's not so fun up here without the Machine."

Again, Gilbert chuckled, shaking his head to himself. "Thanks, really, but I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Of course!"

"Could you bring my board and drop it off at my place? I just don't like it sitting up there in the lockers."

"Yeah, I see why. I'll get it to you this evening when I come down, alright?"

"Sounds great. Thanks Toni."

"No problem Gil. See you later!"

"Bye."

With that, Antonio hung up and Gilbert let out a soft sigh of relief. But that turned into a slightly pained groan. He let the phone drop to his lap, letting his head hit the back of the couch as his eyes slid shut. He groaned again. Really, this headache was uncanny now.

He brought his hands up to his head, in an attempt to massage where it hurt. He paused.

There were… bumps. Small bumps, behind his ears.

Gilbert opened his eyes and let his hands fall. He stood shakily, his head spinning for a moment, bit he quickly made his way to the bathroom. Had he gotten a concussion or something? Had he hit his head while doing a jump, and hit his ears? He could understand if that was it.

Again, he stopped in the bathroom, staring at himself in surprise. He was pale. Even his hair. Sure, Gilbert had paler blonde hair than his brother, and he defiantly wasn't one to tan. He hardly found himself in warm enough weather. But he was pale. He hair was now borderline platinum. He blinked, stepping a bit closer in confusion. Was there something up with the lights?

panic began to gnaw at his gut.

No. He'd only replaced them a week ago. There was no explanation for this.

He stepped a bit closer to the mirror, shifting his head so he could see behind his ears a bit. He couldn't really see any bumps, but he could feel them. He paused, considering where his other pains were. His back. His feet. His stomach. He swallowed a bit, lifting up his shirt. No, his stomach was fine. He turned around slightly, before freezing.

Two bumps. On his back. Noticeable this time. Smaller bumps peppered it, but those were white. One even looked like… was that a feather?

 **oOoOo**

Elizabeta yawned, gathering her things for her lunch break. She might as well check on Gilbert, to see if he was okay. He hadn't called her after all. She paused as her phone rang. Check that, he had called.

She picks it up, answering.

"Hey Gil, are you-"

"Liz, please come home."

Elizabeta paused in surprise at how shaky her boyfriend's voice sounded.

"Are you okay?..." she questioned worriedly, closing her locker.

"There's these weird things on my ears and back and I think I'm growing feathers and-"

"Wait, woah! Wait!" She exclaimed. One of the other nurses, Natalia, looked over in concern. "Start from the beginning. Did you take too much cold medicine?"

"No, I haven't had any…"

She paused, swallowing dryly. "I'll be home in a minute. Okay? Just tell me what you've noticed. One symptom at a time."

She quickly snatched her bag and slammed her cubby shut, before practically sprinting to the car.

"Well… I was on the couch and my head was aching so I reached up and touched it and there were these weird lumps behind my ears-"

"Gilbert." She stated, and he seemed to take in a breath. She put the key in the ignition, apprehension filling her core. "Take a deep breath. Okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Keep going."

"Okay." He did as she asked and took a breath as she began to drive home. "I went into the bathroom, and… god I look like I'm turning into Jack Frost or something…"

"Yeah? Is it worse than yesterday?"

"Liz, my hair's turning white."

"It's turning white?" She stared ahead in disbelief. That wasn't right.

"And I have these weird bumps on my back… and I saw a feather."

"And it wasn't just from the couch?"

"No. I have -had a shirt on."

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm in the bathroom."

"Okay, okay, I'm five minutes away, alright? Then I'll bring you back to the hospital."

There was a pause, and she heard the phone clatter to the floor on the other end of the line.


	4. Revision

**Hey guys! I really hope you like this one, I worked hard on it. Thanks a ton Mely-Val for the advice! I was kinda wanting the first few chapters to be vague, but I added a bit here and there. Thanks!**

 **Also, if you see any spelling errors, seriously tell me. It is humiliating to Gomez back and double check stuff and realize I have accidentally posted it with a very obvious gram mar or spelling error... haha...**

 **Anywhooooo, onward! I hope you guys enjoy this one!**

—

Five minutes could not pass fast enough for her. Elizabeta's stomach had dropped to the floor, the utter fear for not only her boyfriend, but her best friend arcing her veins so inhumanely it hurt. She could feel her car sliding on the ice as she attempted to go further, her mind racing in an attempt to figure out just what might have happened.

She was screaming at him over the phone, attempting to get a response, but there was none. She didn't hang up. God, she didn't dare hang up. She could feel her hands shaking and her whole body tensing in fear as she practically threw the car into park, pulling the key from the ignition so quickly the key got stuck, and she had to frantically jostle it until it came out. She sprinted up the stairs, going so fast she caught her foot on the top step and went crashing face first into the badly painted balcony boards.

She cast herself, letting out a yelp of surprise as her stomach dropped even further some how. Her body flew forward with a loud 'bam!', but she got up again, scampering to the apartment door. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, and she could hear her own panicked breathing.

"Gilbert!?" She shouted from outside, again hoping to gain a response. "Gilbert Beilshmidt!?"

Elizabeta's voice was cracking as she attempted to get the key in the lock. It felt like much too long until she got the door open, and she began to peruse the tiny three roomed apartment. She did it frantically, calling out his name in a way to make it clear she didn't think it was funny, though her gut told her this was no sick prank. This was no mistake, no nothing. Something was wrong.

She heard a soft thumping as she froze in the bedroom, before she turned.

He was collapsed on the floor, slumped against the tub. His head was limp, his whole body shaking ever so slightly. She didn't even hear herself cry out in shock, attempting to get her muddled, panicked brain in check as she bolted in.

"Gilbert!?" She threw herself to the floor beside him, unsure of what to do as she attempted to get his head upright.

His mouth was foaming, with something pink. Like there was blood in his mouth. His eyes had glazed over, and as she attempted to assess the situation, she felt herself grow sick with shock. Small horns were growing, slowly, gradually, but at a pace barely noticeable from behind his ears. She could feel a bony limb poking from behind his back, and she could feel all the blood drain from her face as she realized that it wasn't his arm. His legs looked twisted, shaking with the rest of him. It looked like all the blood had left his body, as if his hair was made out of straw from winter stores.

It scared her.

"Gilbert!? Gilbert, can you hear me!?" She cried out, frantically pulled his shaking heap into her lap as if it could do something.

Her focus finally clicked back into place, and she let out a shaky breath. It looked like a seizure. She had to ignore the oddities for now, she had to focus on making sure he was okay. Seizures. She had to get him on his side.

She wrapped a hand around his arm, pushing on his back to roll him over onto his side, one of his arms splayed out awkwardly as his hand bounced on the floor. She kept a firm grip on his waist, feeling him tense and go limp at a rate that wasn't okay for her, but she kept her breathing slow. If it was a seizure, she had to wait for it to stop before she could do anything else.

Again, it felt like much too long as his jolting body slowly became limp, save for the occasional twitch. He didn't move. He looked dead. She could feel that her cheeks were wet. Elizabeta finally opened her mouth, feeling her jaw quivering as she spoke.

"Gilbert?..."

Silence, for a moment.

"...gnnnh…" The weak groan that came out of his mouth caused her heart to soar with a momentary relief.

She could hear herself saying things in relief, most of which she didn't even hear as she propped him up. She could only feel her mouth moving, and she propped him by the toilet in the case he was to vomit. As she reached forward in an attempt to clean off his face, he finally moved.

He raised a deathly pale, shaky hand to his mouth, wiping off the saliva and staring down with eyes that didn't seem to to be able to focus.

"L-Lizzie?..."

"Oh god-" She clasped a hand over her mouth, feeling her voice crack again as a fresh wave of tears began their way down the newly worn path on her face. She put a hand on his arm as if in reassurance, and he seemed to flinch.

Those unfocused eyes drifted up, and all over again her insides twisted. They were violet. Not blue, violet.

His voice came out in a weak croak, and it was evident he looked ready to burst into tears. That wasn't right, that wasn't okay, her Gilbert didn't cry. He wasn't supposed to cry.

"L-Liz… wh-what's wrong with me?..." She froze up as he shifted forward, shaking now with a whole different fashion. He was crying.

Elizabeta wrapped her arms around his back, over the thin, spindly pale limbs that jutted like deathly twins from his back. They were peppered with tiny white spots. Feathers. She felt herself become sick again.

That wasn't right, that wasn't right at all.

It wasn't human.

She found herself panicking. What could she do? She couldn't call the hospital, the police, not for something like this. They would take him away, most likely. She wouldn't stand with that. But never, ever had she heard of a sickness or disease that caused the growth of horns or tiny wings. Or paling, or skin paling, or the malformation of the legs. At least, not all at once.

"Hey Gil?"

"...y-yeah?"

"Let's get you in bed, okay? I'm gonna figure this out. I'll fix you, okay?"

"Okay…"

She helped him to his feet, and she let him lean on her as they made their way into the bed. He collapsed onto it, and she sat there and hugged him, staring down at his pale, gaunt face.


	5. Omission

**Sorry for the shortness of this chapter but this is really going to pull along the plot. Like a lot. Huehuehuehuehue...**

—

A young woman drove down the highway. She lived in a rather small town, outside the large one at the base of the mountain. The rain came down like sleet outside, pelting her tiny red truck. She drowned out the sounds of the rain bringing its fists down on her roof with the sound of a fuzzy radio station, singing badly to the lyrics in her short, choppy accent.

It was boss had made her work late at the diner, and though she hated it, she needed the extra money. Badly.

Suddenly, she hit the brakes.

That tiny, rickety truck came to a screeching halt; and she stared at the road just beyond her headlights in disbelief. She wouldn't have seen it if she had looked over a few second too late. The thing in question was heaped with mud and debris from the half-melted forests that rose up like walls alongside the road.

Uncertainly, she stepped out into the rain; leaving her car door open. This didn't just happen around here. She had heard about people ambushing cars but… no, this didn't happen around here.

"Sir?" She called starkly, shakily. Her voice was the only one for almost a hundred miles.

She could see a pale arm, bloodied, and cast out into the road. Still connected to a body. If she had kept driving she surely would have hit it. She stalled nervously, feeling sick at the sight of such thick, dark blood in her headlights.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Again, there was no response. She stood there, before withdrawing her phone with a shaking hand.

"Nine one one, how can I help you?"

"U-uhm… I was driving from Cracoa and I found this man by the road." She practically whispered into the phone. "I think he might be dead, I don't know…"

"What's your name, ma'am?"

"Ling."

"Miss Ling, an ambulance is on the way. I'm going to need your help to make sure this man is alive, do you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Can you take his pulse please?"

"Uhm, yeah… yeah, I can do that."

She took a step closer, extending a shaking hand to the man's mud caked neck. He was awfully pale. She could do this, she told herself, she had taken a Red Cross class. As she pressed her fingers to his neck she tried to look for other injuries. That was what the class had said, right?

His arm. He looked like he was bleeding from his back. His longish blonde hair looked bloodied. Maybe it was mud. And then, she froze.

"Ma'am?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"No, no, that's not a man, that's not a man!" She whispered.

Ling stared up at the expressionless face that looked back down at her. Pale. Like snow. Not a man. Not with those antlers sticking from his head. Not with those gross golden anthers coating the bony wings that bent from his back. Not with those broken looking legs. Not with those dead eyes.

For a few moments, those dead eyes were all she saw. A rotten blue sopurrounded by red, staring out from behind ragged dirty blonde hair.

The operator could do nothing but listen as the young woman let out a scream of agony.


	6. Transmission

**Woah there, sorry for the late chapter. But it's Thursday. So that's close enough. i thought Wednesday updates would be easy. Anyway, things ave been kinda stressful as of late so expect some stress writing. And stressful chapters. Bwahahahahahaaaa**

 **Enjoy, my children. And I promise I will update sooner next time. Also, expect a new cover! It'll be a bit gory, but it's gonna be pretty cool. Almost vampire esque. I'm not sure. \\(~u~/**

 **—**

Antonio marched dutifully up to the apartment, a bag of snowboarding gear over his shoulder. He glanced back a bit, seeing Elizabeta's car parked haphazardly in the parking lot. He let out a soft 'tsk' to himself, making note that he should remind her that the roads were still icy.

He hefted the bag slightly, marching up the stairs in his heavy boots. He had just come down on his lunch break from the mountain, which was only half an hour away. Lunch breaks were always long, since things got so slow around then. At least on days without lessons.

He sighed and finally knocked on the door, aware that he was covered in snow from the few runs he'd gotten in before leaving. He absentmindedly brushed a bit off his head, watching the door for a moment. There seemed to be a longer pause than usual, he noted.

Finally, Elizabeta opened the door and he put on a smile.

"Hey, Liz." He smiled about, before noting the tired look on her face.

She stood in the doorway, her hair a bit of a mess. She looked as if she had stayed awake for hours, her eyes a bit glassy.

At this, Antonio furrowed his brow.

"Hi Toni." She finally responded, and he saw her eyes land on the bag. "I can take that."

As he handed it over, he snuck a glance over her shoulder. The bedroom door was shut. And Gilbert was nowhere in sight.

"Is Gil alright?" He questioned worriedly.

She seemed to pause, and he could almost hear the gears turning in her brain for a moment before she looked tiredly up at him.

"He's fine."

Again, he snuck a glance over her shoulder as she grabbed the bag, before he allowed his eyes to dart back down to her.

She gave him a tired, clearly feigned smile in assurance, uttering a soft 'thanks' before finally shutting the door.

Antonio stood there a moment, blinking as he shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He didn't like it, not at all. He hummed to himself, an odd feeling settling on the back of his mind. The whole thing made him uneasy, especially with Elizabeta seeming so… absent. That was the only way he could put it.

Antonio sighed a bit, shaking his head as he withdrew his phone, marching towards his car just as dutifully. He put it to his ear as he listened to the dial tone, plopping down in the driver's seat, closing the door.

"Hello."

He was greeted with Francis' heavily accented voice.

"Hey, Francis. Can you meet me at the diner?"

"Ah, yeah. Are you alright? You sound a bit off."

Of course Francis would notice that.

"Well, it's about Gil and Liz. I want t talk to you about it. I just feel like it would be better to talk about in person than over the phone, you know?"

"Yes, yes. I understand. I'll see you there in five minutes, alright?"

"Alright."

oOoOo

Elizabeta let the bag slump to the floor by the door, and she let her head thump against it with a loud sigh. God, it was a good thing he hadn't asked to see Gilbert. Her mind would have just fumbled for an excuse for him not to.

She turned around slowly, leaning against the door as she stared into the apartment. To her, it felt like a cave. The curtains were drawn, and she moved to sleepily lock the door. She had called in sick from work -Katyusha had answered, and she sounded worried- to stay. To figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

She had made herself a set up on the couch, where she had sat until almost three in the morning, halfheartedly munching on almonds and a cheese stick as she scrolled the forum after forum, through medical blog after medical blog, coming up empty handed each time. She had pulled her books from collage out of the drawer under the TV, and she had spent hours scouring through images and phrases that had been pushed to the back of her mind. Some things matched. Single symptoms, at least. Not anything diagnosable.

There was the Proteus symptom that looked the most similar, and even then it barely scraped by a the same. Bone, muscle and tissue growth. She had seen an episode or something or other about a man in India who had it. He ha debentures called the Elephant man. It didn't add up. The Elephant man did not have horns or weird limbs that looked remotely like wings. Scoliosis was too simple. It was never uniform like that, and very rarely affected the skull or legs.

She groaned and drifted emptily at from the door and stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, glancing at the tiny kitchen before turning to look at the bedroom door. It seemed to look over her, dauntingly.

But she still stepped forward and opened it. She did it to make sure she hadn't accidentally breathed in too much rubbing alcohol, or something else from the hospital.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the forest out back. He had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he was shaking. She didn't know why. She could see the small lumps under the comforter, from the wings. If she could even call them that. His body had stopped changing, at least since the seizure. She prayed to whatever was up there that nothing else happened. That he would be fine and that it would all go away, that it was all a big nightmare. But she knew it wasn't true.

"Gil?"

He hummed sleepily and shakily in acknowledgment, turning to look over his shoulder. He mostly just looked scared. She understood exactly why, now that she could tell what he was feeling. She took an uncertain step forward, before sitting on the edge of the bed a bit away from her.

"...Antonio dropped off your snowboarding gear."

"Alright." He mumbled halfheartedly.

"...are you hungry or anything?"

"No."

She didn't really know what to say for a moment, before he spoke again.

"I need a hug."

She smiled tiredly and scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him.

He hummed again lightly, now more tired than anything

So she sat there, rubbing his back while he drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	7. Alteration

**So my week isn't so busy, so expect not only this update, but one tomorrow, and Thursday too! I'm not sure when I should involve Ludwig... heh... I don't know. I'm changing the description as well. Anyway, sorry for the shortness of this one, I tried to make it a bit longer, but failed miserably so. Yeah. I'll be doing some editing too. My iPad keyboard is a mistake to this planet.**

 **—**

Francis sat at one of the back booths in an aging mobile diner. It was less of a diner and more of a metal and wood structure that barely held up the two feet of snow on its roof. He glanced out the large window to his right, attempting to see past the pink and blue neon and grimy window glass and into the meager, pothole littered parking lot.

After a few minutes, the bulky form of Antonio's car pulled into the parking lot.

Francis was concerned. Yes, very concerned. It was unlike Gilbert to stay away from the mountain and even the diner. Even when he was sick. He sat there, absentmindedly sipping on a soda as Antonio entered, greeting the women behind the counter before coming down to plop into the seat across from him.

"So." Francis started, and Antonio let out a tired sigh.

"So…"

For a moment there was an uneasy silence, and Francis found himself staring down at the fizzy bubbles in his soda.

"Something's wrong with the two of them." Antonio finally stated.

Francis simply shrugged, more intent on listening now then speaking.

Antonio seemed to sigh again before he continued. "My gut says something wrong. I just don't like it. I mean, I've known Liz since high school, and Gil for even longer. I would know if there was something up, right?"

"Yes," Francis nodded, glancing up, "but what makes you feel so bad? I mean, we've all gotten pretty sick before. And we the rest of us were there."

"That's just it. Liz kind of seemed like she didn't want me there. I'm not saying it's her fault or anything… what if he's dying or something?"

Francis huffed. "I'm sure he's not dying. He would have said something, they both would. And I'm sure he'd want to go out with a bang anyway. He wouldn't be spending his last days cooped up in that silly excuse of an apartment. And Ludwig would have left college to come here, right?"

Antonio grumbled a bit in agreement.

"Hey." Francis replied. "Liza's a nurse. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

 **oOoOo**

She didn't know what she was doing. She had gone everywhere, she had looked through everything, and there was still nothing to explain what was happening.

And here she was, at four in the morning, staring at a single dorky sounding side link in the list of local medical blogs. It was near the very bottom, like it was judged just as much as acupuncture and meditation.

 _Jones Super Clinic! (We can fix anything the other guys can't)_

She inwardly wanted to laugh and just close her computer, and go flop back down on the couch and rewatch another medical journal, as if doing so would change what answers she had found so far. It hurt her logical, well informed mind to think that this could be anything supernatural. But that was all that was left. The supernatural, undiscovered, and unexplainable.

She sighed and clicked it.

Elizabeta was greeted with a rather simple website. It lacked decoration, like most of the blogs and websites she had been on. There were a few sketches and links to things been more obscure than the tiny link out of thousands that she had just selected. But at the top was a picture of a tan looking blonde man, with glasses and a rugged hikers outfit. He looked like someone she would have seen hiking one of the many local,steep, mountainous trails in the summer. There was a slightly shorter man next to him, who looked strikingly similar.

Below, a small paragraph seemed to explain the intentions of the website.

' _Thank you for choosing Jones Super Clinic! With the recent uprising in medical sciences, we are aware that some things have been drastically left out. It is our intention to help our clients with those things, since most are either indeterminable or unclassified in the common journal. Feel free to leave us an email, and we will do our best to reply as quickly as possible and with what conclusive answers and potential medication we can provide!'_

Below that was a phone number, and email address, and finally an address labeled 'on site diagnosis'.

Elizabeta paused feeling the logic inside her begin to ferociously doubt the whole situation. But even then, she didn't feel as nervous or negative about clicking the email link as she did on the many, many official blogs she had looked at.

So, with a nervous and shaky sigh, she clicked it and began typing as her email browser opened.

' ,'

She paused, unsure of what to say. She couldn't just outright tell this stranger what was happening and not be called crazy, right? Right… no, she had to do this. So, she typed. She let the keyboard momentarily carry her problems away, and she didn't hear the bedroom door open.

"Lizzie?"

She practically jumped to the ceiling in surprise, her head swiveling to the bedroom door, where Gilbert stood, leaning against the door frame.

Elizabeta let out a sigh and put a hand to her forehead, clicking the send button before she could think about doubting it any further. She closed the laptop and stood, her brow turning up.

"Hey bud."

"Hm… I'm hungry…" he said quietly after a moment. His voice was hoarse. She hadn't recognized it, she realized. That was why she had been so startled.

"Okay… are you hungry for anything?" She replied hopefully, meandering over to the kitchen in a shamble no less tired and beat than his.

"Uh…" he seemed to consider it for a moment, his eyes drifting glassily about the room. "...don't know. Just need to eat."

"Okay." She replied quietly. She paused for a moment as she began to reach for the bread, unsure of what else to give him. She could make out a hint of strain on his face, and he was looking about again and again, with only his eyes. If anything it unnerved her.

As she handed over the toast, he simply took it off the palate and meandered off, nibbling on it halfheartedly. She let out an airy sigh and set the plate down, unsure of what to do anymore.

He was leaned over the toilet vomiting about five minutes later.


	8. Incursion

**Hey guys! Sorry for the absence... I kinda got busy with other plots and friend stuff. But I'm in do mode now. I need to get my laptop fixed, so expect some more frequent posts!**

 **Also, until then, I would really like to have a Beta reader. I'm not sure how it works, and I've kinda been messing with my settings for it, but it's a tad confusing... haha. Anyway, here you go!**

—

The figure moved slowly about the trees, pointed ears flicking. It could smell something. Strong, potent. Metallic. Blood. Good, good. That meant there was a meal nearby. The figure adjusted its head, sniffing for a moment. Other than the light scent of snow… yes, that was blood. Wonderful!

The figure let out a satisfied huff and marched forward a bit, shaking its head to clear its gaunt face of its tangled blonde hair. Glassy pale eyes darted about, and it seemed to yawn a bit and shift its molting wings. It let out a casual groan and moved forward. At this rate, the intensity of the scent told it that its prey wasn't getting far. After a moment, it paused and leaned forward to sniff the ground, moving on its haunches and what were once arms.

It's ears pricked a bit again, and it seemed to grin. A trail! Surely the creature wouldn't need to fight for a meal. After a moment it stopped sniffing as it came to a large puddle of the blood it had smelled, dying the surrounding snow pink and red. It paused, and then moved to sit on its haunches and look around. The trail ended there. Surely. It then glanced up. The meat was strung up a few feet above its head. It let out a puzzled sound, turning about in a circle for a moment, before sitting back on its haunches again.

So, those humans had made another problem to solve, hadn't they?

The creature huffed and jumped, reaching up and opening its maw in an attempt to make sure it had every chance to grab on. It flapped its tiny, little weight bearing wings in an attempt to gain some distance. Finally, it plopped back down. Oh, this was infuriating! It let out a low grumble and then moved up again. There it was, it had finally gotten the chunk of meat in its grasp.

It let out a small yelp as it felt the rope around its foot tighten, and the meat fell down to the ground. It swung there a moment, annoyed, before attempting to struggle. It was vain, and the creature ended up staring hopelessly down at it's lost meal.

oOoOo

Elizabeta jolted awake to the phone ringing. She wasn't sure if it had been ringing for long, but her eyelids felt as if they wanted to fall shut again. She groaned, listening to the ringing as she forced her eyes open. She had pulled a blanket half over herself, her head crammed between the pillow and the cushions. As her eyes drifted about, she saw the phone blinking on the coffee table. The kitchen window was open, causing the room to be chilly. She furrowed her brow, the persistent ringing of the phone becoming a white noise as she moved to shut the window, letting out w tired yawn. As she turned again to finally answer the phone, her body went rigid.

For a moment, all she could register was the quick and obvious slamming of a door that had been only cracked open. The bedroom door had shut again. And Gilbert wasn't in the living room. She swallowed nervously, moving across the hallway, her eyes on the door the whole time. While she attempted to assure herself that her mind was playing tricks, she couldn't be so sure with that any more.

She finally picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello?

She heard a he way sigh of relief on the other end of the line. Pausing, she glanced at the caller ID. Unknown.

"Hello?" She questioned once more, now more confusedly.

" _Hello, I'm sorry. I'm just relieved you picked up… its Alfred Jones. You emailed me about your roommate?_ "

She blinked in surprise, pausing for a moment. "Yes, yes I did."

" _Alright. What you've told me about his condition is… really worrying, to say the least. I would like to come over and make sure things aren't as severe as they seem. I know this is urgent, but you could be in a very dangerous situation right now._ "

She flinched as she heard the floor creak, and turned to see the bedroom door cracked open again. She swallowed nervously, keeping the phone on her ear.

"What do you mean?" She said it slowly, realizing how stupid it was even as she said it. She slowly moved forward grabbing a chair from the kitchen. She could hear a car start up on the other end of the line, but she pressed on.

" _He has to have been doing some strange things, right?_ " She heard Jones attempt to explain.

"Well, yeah…" she said softly, slowly reaching out and pulling the door shut, before jamming the chair under the handle.

For a moment there was silence.

" _Not eating, behavioral changes… the physical changes you mentioned. Has he been staying in small or dark spaces as of late?_ "

She froze, turning to look under the crack of the bedroom door. Darkness. "Yes." She said sharply.

" _Find a way to keep him stuck there, alright? He needs to get into his right mind on his own before he does anything. Then you need to go outside and sit in your car._ " He instructed solemnly. She glanced back at the door.

"Alright. I've already done that." Elizabeta stated simply, she moved to grab her coat and pull on her boots, freezing as she heard something. A dull scraping. It was slow, deliberate, and only lasted a few seconds. And then it repeated. Scratching. It became more frantic as time continued, and she quickly grabbed her keys and shut the front door.

" _You're outside?_ "

"Yeah."

" _Alright, I'll be there in a few minutes. Just stay in your car_."

She shuffled across the icy parking lot and into her car, staring at the front door. She could feel a cold sweat on her forehead, the sound of the scratching now repeating in her head. She was unnerved, and she had her key shoved in the ignition. Elizabeta was honestly prepared for the moment that he managed his way out the front door, just so she could put the car into full gear and high tail it out of there.

She found herself flinching at every sound, at the crows, at the cars passing by on the road next to the apartments. After what felt like hours, she saw a ragged truck pull into the parking lot at unhealthy speeds. The tanner blonde man from the picture was behind the wheel. She hung up, pulling the keys out of the ignition as she walked up to him. He was just clambering out of the car she she met up.

"Are you Alfred Jones?"

"Yeah, that's me. Ms. Hardvary, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is he still inside?"

"He hasn't come out."

"Alright, follow me. We have to be really careful. What's happening right now is that the symbiote is causing him to loose all considerable memory and revert to a predator like state. Right now we need to get him held down and remembering things."

Elizabeta nodded weakly, feeling fear and worry wash over her whole body like a force of nature. Slowly, she began to lead the way up to the apartment, her hands shaking as she unlocked the door.

It was silent. Alfred pushed ahead of her, spotting the badly blocked door. He moved ahead, withdrawing a bag of something. It looked like uncooked meat. Again, Elizabeta felt worry overwhelm her. She wanted to faint. But she couldn't allow herself to.

Slowly, Alfred withdrew the chair from the handle, and slowly pushed open the door. It was dark. The curtains had been drawn, and she could see the bedside lamp on the floor. The bathroom door was shut tight. The closet had been thrown open and made a mess of.

Gilbert sat in the corner behind the bed, his eyes flashing like a cat's. his face was covered in literal white spots, like vitiligo, and she could make out that they were slowly spreading. It was almost impossible to be sure, but one moment his cheek was spotted white, the next his whole nose was. The antlers seemed larger somehow, curled back to almost drape over his shoulders, but the way he held his head, they stood crookedly up. His jaw was moving, and his stare felt like a million pins and needles.

As Alfred let out a low whistle and held out the bag, his eyes snapped almost robotically over to it. He seemed to lean forward, his nose twitching animalistically. Elizabeta now felt more afraid than anything. Slowly, Gilbert seemed to slink around the bed, moving a pair of molted looking white wings about before they came to rest on his back. He stayed in a crouch, a clawed hand coming to rest on the bedpost, digging in so violently it left marks. His hands were bleeding, and so was his mouth.

He looked like something out of a horror movie. She wanted to scream.

Alfred kept his hand out as Gilbert prowled closer. His legs were bent oddly, almost like a deer or a dog, and they looked oddly bony. Suddenly, faster than she could register, he reached out and snatched the bag from Alfred's hand. With that, he started to eat.

Alfred turned to her, putting his finger over his lips, gesturing for her to step out. She reluctantly did, watching with a newfound disgust. It was hard to believe that was Gilbert. She turned away slowly, making her way to stand by the front door.

After a moment she heard Gilbert let out a shriek, and she found herself bolting to the room. Alfred stood a bit away, stuffing a needle back into his pocket. Gilbert had retracted into a corner, aggressively flapping his tiny wings as he looked up at Alfred in what must have been betrayal. He had a hand on his shoulder, and he wa smacking pained and confused sounds as he crammed himself into the corner.

His eyes were red.

Alfred stepped out, grabbing a blanket from the couch. Gilbert seemed to go limp, staring up at them both.

"We need to get him to proper containment." Alfred said with a soft sigh. "I hate to do this, but he can't stay here." He looked up at Elizabeta regretfully.

She just nodded weakly, watching as Alfred easily put Gilbert's arm over his shoulder, and pulled the blanket over his head and back. She followed half heartedly as Alfred marched outside, putting Gilbert in the back seat before gesturing for her to climb in the passenger's seat.

Her head was spinning frantically as she looked around for any sort of explanation, locked away in her mind.

She still could find none.


End file.
